be another hour before the baby was brought in again. She closed her eyes and tried very hard to attract a little doze, but failed.
Mrs. Lensky was reading a newspaper which Bill had brought for her. She was sitting in a chair beside her bed, elaborately kimonoed and bored-looking. She was going home in a few days, and the sanitarium had become dreadfully tiresome.
The girl who was so puzzlingly reminiscent of a bright blue slicker was also reading. She had a feathered negligée thrown carelessly over her shoulders, and Dot thought her prettier than any real woman she had ever seen before. Her table had several books and magazines piled upon it, and Dot thought that perhaps she, too, could read if she had one.
"Could I borrow one of your books or something?" she asked timidly.
The girl looked up at her and smiled. "Certainly. What would you like?"
"What have you got?"
"Well." The girl looked at her books thoughtfully and passed on to the magazines; then her eyes returned to the books again. "Do you like poetry?" she asked.
"Yes," said Dot. She really had no opinion at all about poetry, but the other girl had given her the impression that she just couldn't stand it if Dot didn't like poetry.
"Well, here's something nice. A rather delightful anthology."
Dot held out her hands to catch it, but the owner of the book apparently wasn't in the habit of hurling it about.
"Ring for the nurse," she said to Dot.
Mrs. Lensky essayed the office of messenger, and Miss Parsons caught her in the act and scolded her.
"Who told you to walk around? Sit down and don't move till you're told."
